


A Light, A-Lit

by Azzandra



Series: Meeting the Parents [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Post-Canon, references to past homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: Dorothea meets Mercedes' mother.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Mercedes von Martritz
Series: Meeting the Parents [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712692
Kudos: 59





	A Light, A-Lit

Mercedes' mother was a rotund woman, with a kind face and weathered hands. She reminded Dorothea of old church ladies who would give alms back when she was a street urchin: those women who were often widows, and living barely a patchy roof away from homelessness themselves, but who always gave from what little they had. 

When Mercedes brought Dorothea around to the church where her mother lived, the older woman was in the middle of sweeping the steps.

"Oh, Mother, let me do that!" Mercedes insisted, and gently bullied her mother into handing over the broom. "Why don't you go and put the kettle on instead? I'm sure Dorothea would enjoy some tea."

Mercedes' mother gave Dorothea a piercing once-over, the look on her face a bit too knowing. In some ways, that was a relief. In others... well, Dorothea was already nervous. She didn't think you could get stage fright from meeting someone's parents.

"Thank you, dear," Mercedes' mother said, patting her hand on the broom handle. Mercedes' waved her off with a smile, so she turned to Dorothea instead. "Now, Dorothea... what kind of tea did you say you liked?"

"I didn't," Dorothea replied, "but anything you make is sure to be lovely."

The old woman tittered, apparently charmed, and ushered her inside.

She introduced herself as she put the kettle to boil; Carina von Bartels, previously Carina von Martritz, nee Carina von Andel, now known around the church as Nana Cara, especially by the many orphans that she had taken under its roof.

Dorothea, for her part, was not entirely certain what to call her. She laughed and winked, and said that Carina was entirely too young to be called 'Nana' anything, but then, as Carina laughed, Dorothea realized belatedly that it was true. Carina was not so old as might have appeared at first glance. She was a woman barely pushing fifty, despite her graying hair and deep crow's feet giving the impression of a much longer life. It had been suffering, not just passing time, that had dug deep wrinkles in Carina's face.

They made small talk as the tea was prepared, the usual mix of weather talk and indirect questions about the war that everyone seemed to use as conversation fodder nowadays. It filled the silence, and did not even feel awkward; Carina had a way about her that could set anyone at ease.

Mercedes, having finished sweeping, came in just as they settled at the kitchen table with the tea. The church's kitchen was cramped, built oddly so it was long and narrow, but it was clean and well-kept. The mis-matched crockery Dorothea could see when Carina pulled tea cups out of a cabinet suggested it had been furnished through donations, and the persisting smells of home cooking, even when there was only tea on the stove, suggested it was well-used. This was more than a sanctuary for Carina; this was a home.

They blew gently over steaming cups, quiet as they each hazarded the first sip. Even the silences were pleasant lulls, Dorothea discovered. In the comfort and warmth of the kitchen, Dorothea thought she could peer into the steam and see this same scene in the past: Carina with less gray in her hair, Mercedes a little girl in pigtails.

"Do you know, I used to pray every night that I would live to see this sort of thing," Carina said suddenly, putting her elbow on the table and leaning her chin on her hand. The posture was familiar to Dorothea, though she did not remark out loud that this was where Mercedes had picked it up.

"What do you mean?" Mercedes asked.

"Oh, that the war would be over, and you would come visit," Carina said dreamily, "and bring along someone for me to meet."

Dorothea felt suddenly, unaccountably nervous, and blew on her tea again, though it was already growing colder.

She recalled the nice church ladies who would give alms to the poor; Dorothea remembered the one who'd pulled her aside once, and warned her that any woman doing unholy things with another woman would forfeit her soul in the goddess' judgment. She'd always had a gentle demeanor, that one, but the old woman's hand had felt like a claw, digging into Dorothea's shoulder to keep her in place.

At the time, Dorothea had been too young to understand what that meant, entirely too young to have engaged in the activities the old wretch was implying. But she had felt a strange jab of discomfort lodge itself under her skin, as if she had done something wrong without realizing. A small splinter of guilt as the senile old bat sent a shot in the dark, and hit a target Dorothea hadn't known was even there.

Dorothea hadn't thought about that in years. And she trusted Mercedes, knew Mercedes would never lead her into a situation where she would be hurt. But she hadn't discussed with Mercedes what she would be introduced as, when meeting her mother. Was she supposed to be a friend...? She was not a wife yet. (Oh, 'yet'. Why did she think 'yet'? Now she was sure to blush.)

"It's nice, isn't it?" Mercedes said, smiling and just as dreamy as she stared into her cup of tea. "The family growing again."

"Oh, Dorothea," Carina burst out, reaching across the table to take Dorothea's hands in her own. Her hands were callused and rough, but her touch was gentle. "Do indulge an old woman. Have your wedding here, if you plan on one. I know the old bishop will be only too happy to see Mercedes married. He practically watched her grow up, you know."

Dorothea found her mouth suddenly dry, her pulse jump. She had never been one easily taken in by pleading eyes, but those were Mercedes' eyes too, looking at her from an older face. This unspoken and unasked for acceptance, given as easily as handing a cup of tea, and Dorothea suddenly recalled what it felt like to have a mother's love again.

"Of course," Dorothea said, all charm stripped out, her voice raw. There was no pretense required in between the warm walls of Mercedes' happiest childhood home. "I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather have it."


End file.
